


There for You

by Keitmeg



Series: WinchestLove [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual, Episode: s12e14 The Raid, M/M, Rough Kissing, Wincest - Freeform, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10069454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keitmeg/pseuds/Keitmeg
Summary: After Mary drops the bomb that she's been working with the Brits, Sam feels a little betrayed but that can't compare to what Dean feels, right? So he goes after him to have a talk, only, something else is waiting for him when Dean opens the door of his bedroom.





	

 

 

 

 **S** am has just told his mom that she needed to go, and has watched her chew on her bottom lip, undecided, but she eventually walked the stairs and left, just like he told her to. And now he’s walking down the hallway, going after Dean.

Well, that certainly wasn’t the kind of news Sam was expecting to hear taking the beer from his mom, but she has been working with the British Men of Letters, after telling them she needed her space and everything. And Dean was right to get pissed, although it spiraled a little out of what any of them bargained for, certainly Mary, but Dean was still right to get pissed. Mary has ignored the fact that the Brits kidnapped, tortured Sam, and instead she joined their band, ready to take on the world? Where does that even leave them? So what do you ‘learn’ from them, how to _break ribs_ , how to  _burn feet_?

Sam scrubs a hand over his face.

Maybe he is just too frustrated and angry right now to think straight. If Mary saw some –he doesn’t know– salvation? If she thought the Brits were better at what they do –because, okay fine, their toolkit is way more advanced– that doesn’t mean she had to lie about hanging out with the suits and the accent. Sam and Dean, after all, are her sons. They’re a family. And experience has taught Sam that lying to your family –greater good or not, sacrifice or not– it just never gets you anything but remorse and pain.

He lets out a very deep breath, weary and tired.

God knows Sam lied, cheated his way out of the hunting life but it’s like he’s always been running in a circle and he failed to notice it up until recently, when he decided this is it, this is his life now, with Dean. And, man, Sam and Dean, especially Dean, they deserve a break.

Sam reaches the door to his brother’s room, and just like he presumed, he finds it locked. He lingers by, attesting whether he should knock or not. Dean is in no merry mood to talk and certainly Sam’s guilt-ridden and apologetic eyes are not what his brother needs right now. But whether Dean likes it or not, Sam still wants to make sure that he’s okay. “Dean,” he rasps out, forehead ghosting over the wood of the door. “Dean, man, you okay?”

Vague silence follows, deafening.

Well, little brother Sam got his answer.

He works his bottom lip between his teeth and resigns for now, maybe Dean needs some time alone to think. And that’s probably why Sam is here in the first place, he doesn’t want Dean to beat himself over this. But, whatever Dean wants, Sam will acquiesce. “Alright,” he releases a full-bodied sigh. “Just, um,” he clears his throat, “just wanted to make sure you’re okay, and I’ll be in the library, I mean if you need anything–”

There’s a loud click from behind the door and Sam’s body stiffens as he anticipates for when he can finally see Dean, and his dimpled smile deepens when the outline of Dean’s body emerges before him.

“Dean…”

Hands spring up from the dimply-lit room and seize Sam’s shirt from the lapses, pulling him into the room.

Sam feels his body getting slammed onto the door after Dean forces it close, and before he can even get a clue on what’s just happened, Dean’s lips are on his, forceful and ravishing. Not that Sam minds. He kisses Dean back, moans into the kiss when Dean gropes his ass and nudges his knee against his crotch.

“De…” he breathes into the kiss.

Dean growls to make his point, because, apparently, he doesn’t like the interruption.

Sam mewls when Dean breaks their kiss, and he doubles over, the hard-muscled knee in his crotch hurting him now. “De, you’re hurting me.”

Calloused fingers then rake through his long hair, and Sam regains more balance on his legs because, one more minute and his knees would have been buckling down to the floor. He looks up, and he sees it, despite the poor illumination, he sees that flash of sadness and worry that glint in Dean’s emerald eyes.

“Sam, Sammy, I’m sorry.” He croaks, voice strained with concern. “Didn’t mean to be rough.”

Sam shakes his head; well he didn’t exactly dislike it perse, but if Dean wants to do it, then Sam wants something for himself in return, and his labored breathing has evened out now so he straightens up, still a little hunched though. “My hips are still heavy from last night, so” he trails off, immediately finding his ground when Dean furrows, “maybe we can… you know, not go too fast?” and he adds as an afterthought, “and preferably on a bed too.”

Dean fixes him with an indecipherable look that makes Sam’s own eyelids flutter, but then Dean gives a thin smile and nods, “sure thing,” he says in his characteristically deep voice, “come on, let’s take you to bed, Samantha.”

Sam takes Dean’s hand and rolls his eyes, nonetheless quirks a smile, “shut up you jerk.”

 


End file.
